Return to Grimmauld Place
by Jane Average
Summary: PostOotP WIP. Ginny's having a rough seventh year at Hogwarts without our favorite trio. And then she has to tell Harry she's pregnant... ABANDONED
1. Prologue

_**Return to Grimmauld Place**_

**Prologue**

_A/N: This was an experiment to see if I could stick with one story if I had an outline and the feeling of deadlines. It failed, so the fic is ABANDONED. Also, you may notice by the date that it was written prior to the release of HBP, so it is quite obviously not compatible with DH. I just hate when people take things off the internet, so in the interests of not being a hypocrite I've left it up._

_Of course, this is all just me playing in J.K. Rowling's world. She gets credit for everything you recognize._

Snape glanced at the note the trembling first-year handed him and sneered. "Ah, Ms_… Weasley_," he said, walking slowly towards her. "It seems you have been _excused_ from the preparation of this potion."

Ginny blushed, sinking lower in her chair as all eyes turned her way. She desperately wished he would not say her name like that, as if he had almost forgotten it and might slip at any time. And she wished she knew what to say in reply, but she hadn't the slightest idea why she might be excused. Finally she gave up wracking her brain and said blankly, "Pardon?"

He towered over her, glaring down his hooked nose. Behind his back, she could see several of the Slytherins whispering and giggling behind their hands. "It appears," he said, speaking as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth, "that Professor Dumbledore would prefer to have a little visit with you."

"Oh," she whispered, somewhat relieved, although the rest of the class gasped. She may have pulled a few Fred-and-George-worthy pranks here and there, but nothing recently… somehow, she could not imagine anything _bad _that Dumbledore would need to see her about.

Unless it was Harry.

Ginny took a steadying breath and reminded herself that Voldemort was gone and _nothing_ couldhave happened to Harry. He would be safely at home, she admonished herself, or at least safely at Quidditch practice, where a Bludger to the head was about the worst that could happen. Finally she looked up at Snape, still standing uncomfortably close to her desk. "M-may I go then?"

Lip curling, Snape nodded tersely. As he turned away, Ginny heaved a great sigh and began gathering her things, piling them into her cauldron as Colin gave her an encouraging smile. She was glad to get out of that room, and started to relax as she moved towards the door, but Snape's voice floated after her, "Is Potter's celebrity rubbing off on you, Miss _Weasley?_ You know that doesn't count for much with me."

Gritting her teeth, Ginny pretended not to hear. As _if _Snape didn't know that they were avoiding "celebrity" as best they could! One day, she vowed, she would cast an extremely satisfying bat-bogey hex on the Potions Master. She entertained herself with that image as she climbed the staircase from the dungeons. Better yet, perhaps she would simply stop pretending to Harry that Professor Snape behaved himself around her, and sit back to watch the show as Harry protectively tore him limb from limb on her behalf.

Not that she _needed_ a protector, of course. She was a strong woman; she'd held her own during the final battle and done her share of protecting others. But sometimes, especially lately, Ginny felt that she could gladly allow Harry to come to her rescue… but no, she wouldn't think about that.

She found Dumbledore waiting patiently outside his hidden staircase. He smiled as she came down the hall, and mumbled his password to the statue. It sounded to Ginny as if he had said "Canary Cream," and she giggled as she stepped onto the rising stairs behind the headmaster.

"Come, come, my dear," Dumbledore said, ushering her into his office as the portraits feigned sleep and disinterest. "Have a seat… sherbet lemon?"

Ginny shook her head as she sank into the squashy armchair in front of his desk. Her eyes followed the headmaster as he rounded the desk and took his seat on the other side, a candy lodged in his cheek. Despite the apparent urgency of the note, he did not appear inclined to speak, but simply smiled fondly at her. Finally, unable to stand the suspense, Ginny took a deep breath and asked, "You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore sucked his sherbet lemon thoughtfully for a moment, then said slowly, "No… no, not particularly."

Confused, Ginny started, "But, the note to Professor Snape…"

He smiled, eyes twinkling. "I thought that requesting your presence would be much simpler than explaining why you should be avoiding that particular potion, don't you agree?"

Ginny was suddenly very glad she had turned down the candy, because she might have choked on it. "I… I'm n-not certain, Professor…" she stammered, then trailed off, bowing her head to hide her blush. _I should have known better than to think nobody would notice,_ she thought.

"Ginny," Dumbledore said gently, "Dobby has been very concerned about you." Ginny groaned, covering her face with her hands, and he chuckled. "After all, his loyalty to Harry is very strong… stronger, I believe, than his loyalty to Hogwarts and to myself. Although he did his best to keep your secret, in the end he was more concerned that something might go awry. He felt certain Harry would never forgive him if he allowed you to be hurt."

"I would have been careful," she whispered, too mortified to react to the implication that she couldn't handle herself.

"Of course you would, but others might not be so careful, and then where would we be? Making an announcement to all the world, and in front of your favorite professor." Dumbledore nodded when Ginny cringed, but seemed to feel that enough had been said on that precise topic. Several moments passed as he watched her struggle to compose herself. Then, his voice gentle, he said, "You haven't been to see Madam Pomfrey."

She could feel heat creeping back over her cheeks. "No," she whispered in response, although it wasn't, strictly speaking, a question.

"Does Harry know, Ginny?"

She whimpered. "No… no, not yet. He hasn't been to see me since last Hogsmeade weekend."

Dumbledore carefully picked up his quill and dipped the tip in his signature ink. "Perhaps," he said, touching it to a bit of parchment, "this would be a good weekend for you to floo home."


	2. Back at the Burrow

_**Return to Grimmauld Place**_

**Chapter One: Back at the Burrow**

_A/N: If you believe Harry Potter is mine, obviously you have been stung by a few too many billywigs._

Ginny dusted herself off as she stepped into the empty kitchen. The house was quiet, but she could hear voices through the open windows. She stepped over to one and looked out, watching her family at a more-lively-than-usual meal. Ron and Hermione were arguing good-naturedly on one side of the table, Fred and George arguing good-naturedly on the opposite side. Her mum seemed to be scolding someone roundly, but Ginny couldn't be sure whom. Bill was laughing, listening to their father, who was talking in that animated way he had when he was discussing some fascinating Muggle invention.

Arms slid around Ginny's waist and she jumped.

"I didn't know you were coming," Harry murmured in her ear, pulling her against him.

"I didn't know there was something to come _for,_" she replied, willing herself to relax. "What's going on?"

"Bill's got a bit of a job, curse-breaking for the ministry. He's taken leave from Gringott's to help sort out Voldemort's and the Death Eaters' belongings." He kissed the top of her head lightly and tucked her under his chin. "What brought you home?"

Ginny hesitated, then said, "I imagine Dumbledore knew. He told me this would be a good weekend to floo home."

Chuckling, Harry agreed, "He keeps track of everything." Then he pulled away and turned Ginny to face him. "But that's not all, is it? Something's worrying you." He looked into her eyes, searching, and it was all Ginny could do to stare back innocently. When she didn't respond, he simply took her hand and kissed it, saying, "Let's go outside, I'm starving."

Ginny smiled gratefully and followed him outside. After an enthusiastic greeting all around, she squeezed onto the picnic bench between Harry and Hermione. The lively conversation flowed over her: Bill and her father debating what they'd find at Malfoy Manor, Fred and George laughing with Harry over events at the joke shop, Mum fussing over Ron while Hermione egged her on. Although she felt distant from the conversation, it soothed her a bit, and she dug into a jacket potato. She kept feeling Harry's eyes on her, and felt momentarily thankful that he was more subtle than her Mum (and that her Mum was occupied with Ron) because somehow, she wasn't quite ready to make an announcement, and certainly not in front of everyone.

Finally Fred and George brought out the pudding, and Ginny laughed along with everyone else as the chocolate treasure box opened and rained sweets on Bill. After they'd eaten their fill, and had a good deal more conversation, the group began to break up. First Hermione, saying she had an early morning ahead, stood up, but Ron wheedled at her to sit until Bill finally intervened, dragging him upstairs to the room they were sharing. Fred and George consented to stay over, wooed by their mother's promise of breakfast. Ginny suddenly realized she was in danger of being alone under Molly's searching eye and stood up as well.

"You do look a bit peaky, dear," Mum said, hands cupping Ginny's face. "Not pining away, are you?"

That brought a fierce blush to Ginny's cheeks, but Harry just laughed and said, "No, Mum, that's me doing the pining. Don't worry though, I promise to let her get some sleep."

"Very well, off you go then." She kissed each of them on the cheek and shooed them into the house.

Harry slid his arm around Ginny's waist. "Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," Ginny admitted as they started up the stairs. "Are you really pining, Harry?" she teased halfheartedly.

He chuckled, but didn't answer at first. Finally, when they paused on the landing, he murmured, "Maybe a little bit."

Struck dumb, Ginny mechanically opened the door and went in. She pretended not to notice Harry's eyes following her about the room. They seemed to bore into her as she removed her earrings, washed her face at the basin on the dresser, and brushed the rest of the soot out of her hair. Puttering around, she dug through the top drawer of her dresser, hung up her robes in the closet, anything to keep from turning around and looking to see Harry watching at her.

_It's not supposed to be like this,_ she thought desperately. Seventh year should have breezed by, just a little hiccough in their relationship. Everything in the right order… Ginny would finish at Hogwarts, they would get themselves a flat in London or maybe Hogsmeade, or perhaps Harry would come off the reserve team and _really_ play Quidditch professionally, and she'd do well enough on her N.E.W.T.s to apprentice the team trainer… Abruptly, Ginny shook her head and sighed. Well, perhaps they _were_ girlish dreams after all, but that was what she'd imagined when Harry had asked her to marry him last summer, not--

"Ginny? Gin, honey, stop worrying that thing and come to bed."

Looking down, Ginny saw that she'd picked up a -- what was it? A handkerchief? No, worse, a pair of knickers -- and twisted it quite viciously into a rope. She continued to stare down at it until Harry came over and prised it out of her hands. Then he took her in his arms, and she could feel him shaking, tension pulsing in his muscles.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," he finally said, in a croaky, flat voice, "I just need to know if you regret… if you're having second thoughts."

At that, Ginny burst into tears. "No," she wailed into his shoulder, "but I'm afraid…"

It was as if a great weight came off his shoulders then, and he relaxed, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Then, whatever the problem is, it'll be all right." Finally, after standing there holding her until she'd cried herself out into sniffles and hiccoughs, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Come to bed, sweetheart, I promise it'll look better in the morning."

Ginny nodded, slowly extracting herself from his embrace and fumbling for a handkerchief. After blowing her nose noisily, she allowed Harry to help her into her nightclothes and guide her to bed. She turned away from him, staring blankly at the photograph on her bedside table, but still he curled up behind her as usual. His arm found its way around her, sliding just underneath her breasts, with his hand tucked underneath her, pulling her tight against him, and he stole half her pillow, his breath tickling the nape of her neck. Sighing, she settled back against him and willed herself to fall asleep.

* * *

Feeling as if she had lain awake for hours, Ginny finally convinced herself to tell Harry. _After all,_ she thought, _Mum will have it out of me in the morning if I don't look better rested._ She took a deep breath and whispered, "Harry? Are you awake?"

"Hmmm?" he mumbled sleepily, burrowing his nose against her neck.

Despite herself, Ginny smiled as a shiver ran down her spine. "Harry, wake up, I have to talk to you!"

"Mmmm… no, too comfy," he protested sleepily, pressing his lips against her skin. Already, though, he sounded more awake, and Ginny knew the moment he remembered, because he tensed slightly and pulled her firmly against him.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, she gathered her courage and breathed, on the tiniest whisper of sound, "Harry, I'm pregnant."

At first it seemed as if he hadn't heard, but gradually she realized that his whole body was shaking. Finally he gasped, "Oh, Gin, I'm sorry," and burst into laughter.

Tears glistening in her eyes, she pulled away and turned to face him. "HARRY POTTER! Why are you laughing at—" she began, but the remaining words were muffled as he pulled her underneath him and kissed her thoroughly. Breathless when he finally pulled away, she merely stared up at him, blinking in the dim light at his grinning face.

"Your mum," he said, still chuckling, "is going to have kittens."

She gasped indignantly and punched him in the chest, and he rolled off her, moaning and clutching at his heart in exaggerated pain. "Serves you right," she cried, slapping at his free hand. "Here I've been agonizing over this for positively _ages,_ and what do you have to say? 'Mum's going to have kittens!'"

"Well," he teased, "you know she is." But as Ginny's lower lip started trembling and her eyes brimmed again, he abruptly sobered. Propping himself up on one elbow, he looked down at her and asked, "What are you afraid of?"

After a moment's hesitation, she admitted, "You being angry. Or disappointed. Or feeling… trapped."

Harry brushed a wayward tear from her cheek with his thumb. "No, Ginny," he whispered, "not at all." And he bent to kiss her again, his fingers traveling lightly over her still-flat stomach. "I'm… it's probably selfish, but I'm excited. I know this is going to be awfully difficult for you, but…" A grin spread across his face again, as if he couldn't contain it. "Oh, Gin, are you _too _annoyed with me?"

Feeling disoriented, as none of this conversation had gone remotely the way she'd imagined any of the hundred times it had played through her head, she repeated, "Annoyed?"

"For complicating seventh year for you. I know…" he hesitated, looking away from her. "I know I wasn't properly paying attention, last time, when I cast the spell."

Ginny grinned, remembering Valentine's weekend at The Three Broomsticks. "Yes, but it mightn't have mattered," she said. "After all, I _am_ a Weasley."

Harry laughed. "There is that, but still, Trelawney predicted I'd have a dozen."

_A/N: Well, I have been bitten by a competing plot bunny, and Ginny is having a hard time finding a way to break the news to her family, so this isn't coming along as quickly as I'd hoped, but nonetheless it's coming along. As always, comments, suggestions, questions and constructive criticisms are most appreciated. Thanks to Beth5572, a.k.a. Terri, for being my first brave reviewer._


	3. That Went Well

_**Return to Grimmauld Place**_

**Chapter Two: That Went Well**

_A/N: Those who are under the impression that I am J. K. Rowling should visit the Welcome Witch, as I hear Gilderoy Lockhart is in need of a roommate._

Between Ginny's fitful sleeping and her rather lengthy midnight conversation with Harry, breakfast was well underway by the time the pair were awake enough to come downstairs the next morning. Her father and Bill, long gainfully employed and thus accustomed to early mornings, each had a section of the _Daily Prophet_ open, propped against glasses and bowls to read while they ate. Ron, on the other hand, looked much more like she felt, sitting half-awake next to Hermione, having obviously been dragged out of bed to see her off.

Molly bustled over and tutted indulgently about Harry's half-dressed state and Ginny's utter lack of alertness. "Here you are, dears," she said, setting a glass of milk in front of each of them.

Suddenly wide awake, Ginny blanched, staring at hers with a mixture of apprehension and disgust, and stammered, "No thank you, Mum, I really—"

"It's good for you," Molly interrupted her.

"Seriously, Mum, it's—"

"Nonsense, dear."

"Mum," she asked desperately, "haven't we any orange juice? Pumpkin juice?"

Molly sighed, carrying a steaming platter of scrambled eggs to the table, which Ron immediately began heaping on his plate. "Well, all right then, if you must… drink up and I'll get you a glass."

Stomach roiling, Ginny pushed the glass as far away from her as she could without getting up or rearranging the platters of bacon, sausage and toast. "No, Mum, I really can't, I'll be ill."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she admonished. "There's absolutely nothing wrong—"

"Except I'm PREGNANT," Ginny exploded, losing her temper, "and milk just _doesn't sit well_ with me right now!"

There was silence. Ron's mouth hung open, displaying half-chewed bacon sandwich, and Hermione beside him had a similar look (although her hand was covering her "o" of surprise). Burying her head against Harry's shoulder in embarrassment, Ginny still caught out of the corner of her eye Bill's expression, his face twitching as if it wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be glowering or grinning with laughter.

The silence was broken, however, by Fred and George's usual herd-of-hippogriffs-style entry into the kitchen. "What did we miss?" they began in unison.

Molly's squeal pierced the room and she rushed over to drag both Harry and Ginny into a hug. Ron, on the other hand, found his voice and croaked, "But – but that means – you and my baby sister—OW!"

Apparently Hermione had stomped on his foot, and she hissed, "Honestly, _Ronald_, didn't we have this discussion last summer? They're married! What did you expect?"

"At least until now I could _pretend_," Ron grumbled, and Bill finally gave in and roared with laughter.

Smiles of gleeful anticipation spread over Fred and George's faces as the meaning of all this disjointed conversation began to dawn on them. Had Ginny noticed, she would certainly have attempted to head off whatever was going through their minds, but (fortunately for her brothers) she was still being smothered. This had the advantage, in her mind, of putting off whatever her father's reaction might be, as he was instead occupied in calming his wife. It was impossible to get either lecture or congratulations in while Molly was chattering rapturously about grandbabies; he found it difficult enough to pry her away and maneuver her into a chair, but finally he managed.

Taking advantage of this, Hermione came over and hugged them both. True to form, she whispered in Ginny's ear that she'd be owling her a book, and a little less quietly offered Harry a hand in working up a budget before adding a rather reserved "Congratulations" and Apparating off to work. Harry groaned, but Ginny thought he had by far the better end of the deal; there was no way Hermione would be satisfied providing just _a _book.

Once the hubbub died down a bit, everyone got back to the business of eating breakfast, although both Bill and Arthur had abandoned the _Prophet._ Bill, unfortunately, made the mistake of responding to his mother's excitement. "See, Mum? And all this time you were worried you'd never have any grandchildren."

During the second or two that Molly spent in surprised silence, the twins turned to look at him in horror. Never mind that he was her favourite brother, Ginny's eyes twinkled in anticipation of what he had just walked right into. It was _much_ more interesting to watch someone else be the center of her Mum's attention.

"William Arthur Weasley, don't think this lets you lot off the hook! You've eleven years – _eleven!_ – on Ginny! I'd think there would at least be a move in that general direction! Maybe if you stopped wearing that horrid fang… and let me trim your hair…" The familiar rant continued, expanding to include Fred and George (now glaring at their eldest brother) as well as a sulking Ron.

Beside her, Harry was shaking with suppressed laughter and seemed to have completely given up on attempting to finish his eggs. Ginny, on the other hand, was feeling much better after getting that out of her system, and applied herself enthusiastically to the food on her plate.

Ten minutes later, the rant at her brothers had progressed into rampant speculation: whether she'd continue the Weasley tradition of bearing only boys, whether they should have a more public wedding first, what the baby would look like, and on and on. George leaned over and teased, "You threw me off my game, Ginny! Should have head her off before she hit her stride… now she'll never stop."

Harry slid his arm around her waist and shrugged. "Who cares? At least she's happy about it."

"Yeah, at least one of her children has done something right," Fred grumbled, but his eyes were twinkling. "We're all out saving the world…"

"But Ginny's reproducing, which is loads more important," George finished.

She did not dignify that with a response, other than to cross her eyes and stick out her tongue at her brothers. Harry, on the other hand, replied cheekily, "I know _I'm _impressed that she's managed to do both." He was somewhat less lucky, as his blushing wife seemed to think he deserved to be slugged in the shoulder for saying so.

"…I suppose they must be in the attic," Molly was saying as she began clearing plates, "along with all the baby things. I'll have to get started, won't I? How long do I have, Ginny dear?"

Ginny opened her mouth to explain she hadn't been to see Madam Pomfrey, but her mother rattled on before she could speak. "'Til November, I suppose," she continued, counting on her fingers. "Last Hogsmeade weekend, unless I miss my guess?"

Slightly green, Ron visibly shuddered, and Harry was blushing. Groaning, Ginny banged her head on the table. It was more than a little disconcerting to have your family speculate openly on when you'd had sex. "Yes, mum," she mumbled, studiously ignoring Bill's chuckles as he hid himself behind the paper again.

She slumped there, Harry's hand trailing comfortingly up and down her spine, and composed herself. If she rolled her head a bit in either direction, she could watch the others from behind her curtain of hair. Her mum enlisted Ron and the twins to assist her in distracting the ghoul and digging through the attic for her smaller set of charmed knitting needles and crochet hooks. Dad – bless him – seemed to realize that she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Although she saw him giving Harry a look that plainly said they'd talk later, he stood without comment and headed out towards his shed.

Bill, on the other hand, seemed unable to take the hint. Finally, she lifted her head and glared at an article bemoaning the economic implications of the current swamp hellebore shortage. His voice floated out from behind the paper, saying mildly, "Don't glare at me like that, Gin-Gin." Another sixty seconds of glaring, however, and he stood up, saying, "You know we only want you to be happy, Ginny," in a tone that managed to convey both hope and doubt.

As he left the room, she sighed and turned to look at Harry.

"Well, that went well," he teased, and escaped up the stairs with Ginny chasing after him.

_A/N: Well! That was a rough chapter for me. Even after rewrites, scrapping the whole thing to begin again, and more rewrites, it turned out a little choppy, I think. And of course I know some of you won't agree with the family reactions. Let me know how you feel (and why) -- it helps._

_I think this answers the questions about the status of Harry and Ginny's relationship. I can't imagine Molly letting them share a room otherwise, can you:) As for canon evidence of pregnant students: No, we don't have it, and I don't think we need to have it for the situation to fit with canon. I went to a high school only a little bigger than Hogwarts, and I was blissfully unaware until my own senior year of the pregnancy "epidemic." And a blouse, skirt and blazer (our school uniform) is a lot less concealing than voluminous robes. (Not to mention, I hung out with a lot more girls than Harry does, and I was not distracted from their mundane gossip by an evil wizard trying to kill me.)_

_Thank you to my reviewers for all your lovely compliments. And a slightly less enthusiastic thanks to those who did me the compliment of putting me on "Author Alert" but were too lazy to comment ;)_


	4. An Unforgivable Week

**_Return to Grimmauld Place_**

**Chapter Three: An Unforgivable Week**

_A/N: Don't you hate it when authors whine and make excuses about why they haven't updated? Good, me too, so I shan't. This chapter, however, is for morgan000 and missy mee, since they asked so nicely for it._

_For anyone who is less obsessed than I, and/or who did not spend six or seven hours at Barnes and Noble yesterday and read HBP before going to sleep at nine this morning: THERE ARE NO SPOILERS FOR BOOK 6 IN THIS CHAPTER. Nor do I foresee any in this story at all, as I've kind of committed to people and circumstances being the way they are. Should this change, of course, I'll put up a nice big warning._

_Speaking of which, if you believe I own Harry Potter, I'll let you in on a secret: I also have a Quidditch team I'd like to sell you…_

Mondays, Ginny decided as she dashed towards the Great Hall, were like a day-long Cruciatus Curse.

She hadn't slept well at all the previous night. It never ceased to amaze her how easily and quickly she got out of the habit of sleeping by herself, especially as sleeping with Harry wasn't the most comfortable proposition. He was too hot all the time, and he mumbled constantly and tossed and turned in his sleep, and he always ended up stealing at least half of her pillow, all of which habits were incredibly annoying. But it was also kind of soothing and comforting to have him there, and afterwards her four-poster at school seemed unbearably empty and cold and quiet. She wasn't sure what time she'd finally drifted off, but it had been quite late.

So of course she'd overslept, only to discover during her rush to get dressed that she had not escaped being pranked by her brothers. Which meant it was even later once she'd dug through her trunk to find something reasonably clean and unwrinkled that hadn't been affected.

Now she was rushing through the corridors, knowing she had barely enough time for a quick breakfast.

"There you are," said Colin as she plopped down breathlessly next to him. "I saved you some toast."

"How did you know I'd want toast?" she asked, viciously ripping off the crusts.

"You've had toast every single morning for the past few weeks," he said, giving her a strange look. Then he lowered his voice and asked sympathetically, "You look upset. It didn't go well?" Ginny looked at him in confusion, and he elaborated, "This weekend, it didn't go well with Harry?"

She sighed. "No, it was really good; I'm just having a horrible morning."

"So what did he say?"

"When?"

"When you told him."

"Told him what?" she asked suspiciously. As answer, he rolled his eyes and poked her belly. "How did you know?"

Colin laughed. "Ginny, I spend twelve or fifteen hours a day with you, ten months out of the year. I do notice things occasionally."

"What do you mean?"

"Like you've been nervous about something all month, and you started looking like Hedwig was bringing you a summons to Azkaban rather than a letter from Harry. And you _agonized _over writing back. But you never said anything about having problems."

"I don't tell you everything," she reminded him sulkily.

"No, no, of course not," he said with laughter in his voice. "You only wrote me letters all summer about Harry and Quidditch, and Harry bringing you presents, and Harry and your parents, and Harry at the Ministry, and visiting Diagon Alley with Harry, and Harry's birthday present, and Harry acting suspicious and secretive—" When she began looking mutinous, he hastily added, "It was other stuff that really tipped me off, you know. I thought at first you were just having a really rough time with your… your monthlies, but it didn't go away. And then you got so picky about food all of a sudden – I'd never seen you eat toast without marmalade or at least slathered with butter, and I've had to give up milk and cheese because it makes you green! Do you know how difficult that is for a milkman's son?"

She gave him a rueful smile. "That's how I announced it to my family, you know. Mum gave me milk and I lost my temper."

"You're kidding." When she shook her head, he grinned at her. "That's my Ginny, always making a scene."

They spent a few minutes discussing Ginny's weekend, and once they'd finished it was nearly time to head for Transfiguration. As Ginny stood and began gathering her things, Colin grabbed her left hand and waved his wand over it, casting a charm she didn't recognize. "What on Earth was that?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to be answering everyone's questions when they suddenly realize you're wearing your ring. This way when they notice, they'll think it's nothing out of the ordinary. Should give you a little more time, anyway."

An idea dawned slowly. "Colin, you're brilliant with Charms…"

With a quizzical look, he prodded her towards the door. "Thanks. What are you thinking?"

Lowering her voice, Ginny replied, "Fred and George pranked my clothes this weekend, and I can't get rid of it. D'you think you could help me?"

It wasn't until that afternoon that they were able to find time. Ginny bundled up everything, dragged her bag down the girls' staircase and up to the seventh-year boys' dorms, and locked and sealed the door. Colin simply watched in amusement, and when she was finished, asked curiously, "What could possibly be so bad that it requires all this?"

Glaring, Ginny opened her bag, pulled out one of her school robes, and shook it out. "This," she said venomously, and turned it around to display the eight-inch-high letters, flashing bright green: _I SHAGGED HARRY POTTER_.

Colin stared speechlessly at the message until an orange lightning bolt blinked into the background. This was too much for him, and he doubled over laughing, barely managing to gasp out, "That… on ALL your robes?"

"Oh no," she fumed, "not just my robes – EVERYTHING I had at home this weekend. Robes, trousers, blouses, my Christmas jumper… even my knickers."

After what felt like ages, but was probably only a minute or three, Colin finally collected himself enough to sit back up properly. Wiping his eyes, he fumbled around on his bedside table until his hand met his precious camera. "I'll fix them for you," he said weakly, "on one condition…"

* * *

Wednesday, Ginny had Potions in the morning and a free afternoon, and the day was equally excruciating. Professor Snape was displeased with her absence the previous class, even though it had been requested by Professor Dumbledore. He spent the entire class breathing down her neck, and she was forcibly reminded of the stories Harry told of his days in Potions. She began to half expect Draco Malfoy to appear and say something scathing.

Although she was determined not to be intimidated, that didn't prevent Professor Snape from finding some minute imperfection and casting _Evanesco_ on her cauldron. Ginny was quite annoyed about her zero and the essay assigned as extra homework, and thus she was not in the best of moods when, after lunch, she headed up to the infirmary. However, she felt there was no sense putting off the inevitable.

Madam Pomfrey, like the rest of the staff, was aware of Ginny's marriage, and like Snape she seemed to have assigned Ginny space in her mind as an extension of Harry Potter. Thus, her first question was not "What's wrong, dear?" nor "How can I help you?" but instead "What dangerous thing have you been up to now?"

Biting her tongue on the urge to answer with something about marital relations, she instead kept a remarkably good hold on her temper and merely gave the school nurse a whispered explanation.

"Well, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said in a strangled voice, "you've managed to find the one thing for which I never had to treat Mr. Potter." And without further hesitation, she bustled towards the bed farthest from the door, herding Ginny ahead of her, and surrounded it with curtains and silencing spells.

The examination was long, and made longer by mutterings of "Never would have thought…" and "Really, not my specialty…" and "Children these days…" among other comments. While Ginny was appropriately grateful to be a witch (Hermione had described vividly the visit her mother had insisted she make to a Muggle women's doctor, and it sounded quite horrifying) she wondered if perhaps there might be an advantage to getting this sort of exam from someone who didn't know you in the least. Or at least someone who hadn't patched up all parties involved after every nasty incident of the latter half of their lives.

There were a number of spells to be got through, and then a long list of questions (with even more side comments) and a potion and more spells, and finally she was allowed to sit up. Before escaping back to her dormitory, however, Madam Pomfrey mentioned (to Ginny's horror) that she would have Professor Snape brew up a daily potion to "maintain your robust good health while gestating."

Perhaps her Dad had the right of it, and Muggles really weren't quite so nutters as they appeared.

* * *

It was Thursday that had Ginny thinking longingly of _Avada Kedavra_.

Thursday gave every indication, when she woke up, of being a good day. She hadn't overslept, it was nearly the weekend, and she was feeling particularly well. It was simply not her week, however, and her good mood was not destined to last.

The sound of owls brought everyone's attention to the ceiling midway through breakfast, but it wasn't long before hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on one owl in particular. It was large and sleek and very dark, and was carrying an enormous package. As it winged its way along the Gryffindor table, Ginny felt a creeping sense of foreboding. Sure enough, the package landed with a dull thud right on top of her plate, knocking her goblet of pumpkin juice dominolike into the milk she had generously allowed Colin to pour himself that morning.

Students were staring curiously She sighed, untied the parchment from the package, and began to read.

"Merlin's beard, what IS that?" Colin asked incredulously. "It's got to be half the size of my trunk!"

That was a slight exaggeration, but not much; the package was easily two feet square and half as high or more. Heavy as well, she discovered while attempting to shift it off her plate – it must have had a lightening charm on it. "Hermione…" Ginny groaned, handing him the letter.

He scanned the parchment and laughed. "You've got to be kidding me," he began, then read aloud, "'I thought you'd appreciate a little bit of light reading…'!"


End file.
